Transformer Slush Pile
by Danatheleseus
Summary: Drabbles and snippets that may become something. Mostly Jazz and Prowl centered.
1. Evil Jazz snippet

"Lord Megatron" Soundwave inclined his head in respect. The gunmetal grey mech glowered from his throne-like chair.

"What did you want, Soundwave." Megatron gritted out.

"Proposal received. Veracity: High probability. Probable result of acceptance: Victory for Decepticon cause."Soundwave said. Megatron leaned forward in interest.

"One of the Prime's weaklings wants to turn traitor?" He purred his engine thrumming with subsonics. "I shouldn't be surprised. Which one is it?" He laughed mirthlessly. "Who is begging to betray his fellow Autobots in return for his pathetic life?"

"Situation: somewhat difficult." Soundwave started. He seemed almost hesitant despite his monotone voice. "Issue: Survival of Cybertron species. All-Spark: Destroyed. Other means of creation: Banned by Prime. Issues with creation: Many. Proposal: End war, begin repopulation. Requires: All Cybertronians currently known to be living."

"That is one of the few things Prime and I agree on. Split-sparks are abominations, weaklings, worse than adult-spark mechs. What was created once can be created again." Megatron rumbled warningly. "We will not be reduced to a parody of ourselves, each generation weaker than the last."

"Knowledge: can be regained." Soundwave agreed hurriedly. "Can knowledge: be regained in time?" He continued quickly. "Third creation method exists. Slow: Resource intensive. But: Creates full framed mecha; Not minibots." Megatron sat up straight, his optics cycled in surprise.

"Third method…?" He started, and then demanded "What are you talking about? There is no such thing."

Third method: Outlawed by priesthood long ago." Soundwave started."Spark shard creation: remnant. Priests could not force sparks to stop creation. Could remove: all support systems and programming: necessary to strengthen and frame new spark. Only a few clades: still retain ability. Renegade clades. Hidden clades." He paused.

"Mech known as: Autobot Jazz: member of hidden clade." He continued, then said "Soundwave: also." He stopped and winced. The explosion wasn't long in coming.

"also what…- WHAT!" The incensed warlord exploded out of his seat. "You lying waste of fuel. You never so much as hinted-Have you been in league with – how could you not, you sneaking, spying razor-snake…" He reached for the cowering mech, seizing him by the throat and lifting him until he dangled unresisting at the level of Megatron's optics.

"Lord – never, no: Loyal to Lord Megatron – Unknown: Jazz autobot origins – Only, Only wanted avoid programming conflict – Hard coded – protect clade from enemy. Clade cowards. Weaklings. If Megatron knew of them – Soundwave loyal to Megatron. Soundwave could not risk: conflict of loyalty programming. Forgive! Forgive Lord Megatron." Soundwave blurted, trying desperately to stay still and unresisting in Megatron's grasp.

"Do you expect me to believe that telepath?" Megatron's voice was a dangerous growl.

"Autobot Jazz: Not know: Member of different clade. Specialists; deep cover. Autobot Jazz cover persona." Soundwave insisted desperately. "Proposal from Meister. Meister not Autobot: Loyal to self only. Dedicated: continuing function of clade. Faction irrelevant."

"And you denying me potential allies with your silence?" Megatron grumbled. Soundwave did not relax.

"Sent messages; welcoming any. Clade did not respond. Refused to join Lord Megatron." Soundwave explained. "Cowards would only hide." Megatron's grip loosened. His head tilted.

"What about that other carrier? Blaster, I believe his name is." He asked.

"Soundwave cares not." Somehow he gave the impression of a shrug. "Do not know if clade member. Do no t **care**. Loyalty: to Megatron."


	2. Nobleverse ProwlJazz

Noble verse Prowl/Jazz - idea came from Gatekat originally - The Noble and the Hero's creation, I believe

"Remember little glitch, you do anything to queer this deal and you will beg for your spark to extinguish." Moonbeat hissed. "Your only worth is to seal this alliance and be a pretty berthbot for whoever they give you to. Once you get handed over, you're their problem and good riddance."

The smaller mech didn't reply, his field teeking of sullen resentment and a tinge of despair. He just slumped lower, dejectedly looking away. Moonbeat hissed in irritation, his servos clenching as he looked out over the ragged caravan. His carrier was quite clear on what would happen to him, if House Farstrycker rejected the little twat. If he damaged or disfigured the brat and the Praxians decided he wasn't acceptable, Moonbeat would be taking his place. House Farstrycker demanded a creation of the Lord of House Starsong, and they had the power to destroy the house if they wanted. He was just lucky they would be satisfied with a creation carried by a consort, rather than the Lord himself.

"C'mon, its time to go." He said finally, comming the two guards assigned to make sure the brat didn't run off or get himself killed. He turned away as they approached, ready and more than ready to see this errand finished.

They finished the trip that orn, finally leaving the bleak metallic plains of the wastelands behind them and entering Praxus controlled territory. House Farstricker was on the outskirts of Praxus, and they headed directly there. Moonbeat led the way, revving his engines over the smooth, well maintained roads, with Jazz directly following him, boxed in by his guards. The complex was surrounded by high walls of battered metal and two stubby towers flanked the gate, with guards and sensor disk on top of them.

They were challenged at the gates. Moonbeat fumed as the guards took their own sweet time verifying that they were expected, and then forcing them to wait further as the caravan was inspected and a high enough ranking member of the house was sent for to accept delivery. They had to spend the recharge period camped outside of the walls. The guards' jeering as they leaned against the walls was even worse. Finally, after a most uncomfortable recharge and yet more waiting, they were allowed into the gates. A large Praxian mech was waiting for them just inside. His widespread sensor wings were a dark blue, accented with light green and gold. The color pattern continued on his armor, primarily a very dark blue with occasional accents of light green and a chevron of gold and light green. From the deference he was shown by the guards, he was presumably the one in charge.

Moonbeat stalked up to him, arrogant and furious at the wait. "What is the meaning of this insult" He hissed. "We wasted most of the Orn here, is House Farstricker really that lacking in members of the house able to accept shipment?"

"Upset that we didn't drop everything to attend to a second rate caravan from a third ranked house?" The warrior laughed. "Be honored that Lord Farstrycker sent one of his own creations to greet you. I am Blockade and I will be taking custody of our new concubine. If he passes inspection, of course."

"Where's the medic's rooms then" Moonbeat growled, just wanting this over with. "Why are we wasting time out here." He moved to pass the Praxian, only to have his way blocked by an arm.

"oh, no, Merchant-spawn." Blockade laughed. "You aren't getting any further. I can inspect the goods right here and now."

A sudden blurt of static behind them and a crash made Moonbeat shutter his optics briefly. With a sigh and a shrug he just decided to get the whole thing over with. He turned and started to yell at the little glitch's guards, who finally got the brat under control and up front.

"Here he is" He finally stated, bored. "You need me to open him up for you or can you manage that by yourself?" A snigger from the observers followed that sally. The object of their discussion hung limply from the servos of his guards but Moonbeat didn't doubt for a second that he wouldn't run the instant he got the chance.

"Pretty little thing" Blockade leered down at the smaller mech pinned in the servos of two guards. "It really takes two of you to keep hold of such a fragile little bit?" He laughed shortly. "Well then, little one, you want to do this the easy way and open up? Or are we doing this the hard way?" His only answer was the smaller mech's armor plates tightening and his frame stiffening. "Guess it's the hard way then" Blockade smiled.

Prowl flicked a sensor wing boredly, watching the last vestige of the recent caravan be cleaned up while desultorily keeping a set of scanners on the sentries. Gate duty may be necessary, but it was usually boring and everyone, even Lord Fartstrycker's creations, had to do their shifts.

He had heard about the excitement earlier in the orn. A new consort had arrived late the orn before and Blockade had made a point of humiliating him and his escort, by making him wait until Blockade's shift was almost up. Blockade was the youngest of Farstrycker's creations, not yet blooded, and he held non-Seekerkin in even more contempt than usual. Hopefully a few campaigns would teach him better, but Prowl doubted it. That would require the ability to learn.


	3. Nobleverse snippet

Not much later...

For a moment Prowl didn't understand what he was seeing. Then he was distracted by the way the small mech darted & weaved between the larger mechs around him, seeming to dance away while behind him warriors collided and fell. The small mech had almost gotten to the gate before he shook off his fascination.

Prowl directed three members of his patrol into a coordinated attack from the right and moved behind them, using them to screen his movements. He was perfectly placed to intercept the fugitive in moments. He forced himself not to get distracted by the beautiful feint and graceful evasion that ended up with all three of his mechs tangled on the ground, instead focusing on finding a pattern or weakness to exploit. The mech had not noticed him until he nearly ran into Prowl, whose approach had been screened by the three attackers as he had planned. He seized the startled mech before he had time to register the threat, ignoring the startled cry and using his greater weight to force the smaller mech to the ground. Even with the benefit of surprise and a solid grip, it was still like trying to hold a cyber-weasel, a mass of squirming limbs and impossibly flexible twists of chassis and frame.

"Be still" He commanded, forcing the other mech to the ground in a pin. "You are captured. Submit." He used his greater mass to immobilize the smaller mech. The mech made a final strut wrenching twist and cried out in protest before settling into a trembling stillness. His engine purred as he relaxed his hold and looked up. The mech below him had certainly made an impression. Even now, he could see a good five more troops running to help, scattering the cleaners. His patrol were still scattered, not yet recovered from the sudden intrusion of this one mech. All this confusion caused by one small mech.


	4. Love at fist meeting JP

Prowl stumbled at he was pushed forward, the soldier behind him cursing his slowness. The ambush had surprised the group guarding the tactician. They had thought themselves safe from direct attack, well behind the front lines. A surprise attack from above, pushed them towards tumbled ruins nearby for cover, but the decepticons were pressing them hard. Prowl hurried deeper into the crumbling twisting metal alleys and passages, blaster in hand. A sudden exclamation, the sound of guns firing and the soldier was no longer behind him. His tactical computer ran useless calculations on the ruins being a trap, the probabilities of each of his companions still being wounded, online, alive as he sought a place to regroup or hide. A dark doorway off to the side offered promise as a sanctuary and he dived in, sensor wings pulled in tight.

He collided with another mech right inside the entrance, both going down in a tangle of limbs. For a moment they fought, wrestling for the upper hand, but it was the decepticon who was obviously better skilled that ended up on top, pinning Prowl down.

They ended up face to face, pressed close against one another as intimately as lovers. Vents running hot, Prowl stared up with wide blue optics, his spark pulsing so quickly, it seemed about to burst through his chest plates. A red visor stared down, just as startled.

They stared into each others optics, unable to look away, feeling each other's spark beating madly in their chassis. Their auras mingled, confused but attracted. Their sparks reached for the other, despite the barriers of armor and plating.

"Mine" the other whispered, voice quiet and almost reverent. Prowl trembled, his spark aching to claim the other mech.

"Yes" he breathed "Mine".


	5. Captive Praxian

An unfinished fill for a kinkmeme request.

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Ricochet casually shoved the Praxian into the small room. The mech stumbled slightly but recovered before he fell. Ricochet watched with amusement.

"This is your new home pretty." He laughed. "Don't expect out anytime soon." He closed the door, leaving Prowl to explore the small room. Fully half of it was filled by the large berth & Prowl shuddered as he thought about what that meant for his future. There was no seating, shelving or vidscreens; only blank grey walls. Prowl finally stepped further into the room and knelt to look at the space under the berth. There was a storage space with two pull out drawers. He pulled out one and looked inside. He recognized the restraints, at least in concept but the other things… His shuddering became outright shaking as he backed away into a corner, as far away from both the berth and the door as he could get.

Jazz wandered down the endless halls of his creator's stronghold. He had been selected to break in the new breeder. It was an important position, convincing an often terrified mech to not only not resist but even participate in multiple sparkmerges with complete strangers and even more importantly to convince them that being sparked up was in their best interests. Considering how his creator got his breeders that could be more than a little difficult. And of course he didn't have any files or other information other than the breeder being a Praxian with a possible spark talent for strategy. Finally reaching the right section, he turned into the hall with the breeders cells.

The stark metal hallways had changed from endless featureless walls with occasional doors or intersections to endless featureless walls lined with heavy barred doors. After a few more minutes walking, Jazz calmly opened the correct door and peeked inside.

At first the room seemed empty. Jazz blinked and stepped inside as he scanned the room. One of the storage drawers was open he noticed absently, before noticing the mech crouched in a corner of the room.

Jazz's visor brightened in startlement for a second then narrowed. The mech wasn't crouched so much as cowering as far in the corner as he could get. It looked uncomfortable to Jazz.

"Hey, there" he called softly. The other mech's dark optics flared as he twitched and jerked in surprise. In a moment he had shifted into a submissive kneeling position, pretty sensor wings canted to be both submissive and attentive. Jazz waited a click, smirking internally as sensor wings started quivering. Yeah, this was going to be fun he thought to himself.

"C'mere" He ordered, with an absent wave of his hand. The praxian's wings jerked before he slowly crawled closer to Jazz, stopping just out of easy arm's reach. Jazz cooed at the sweet little pet his creator had given him and moved closer, one hand seizing the mech's chin before he could do more than flinch. He tilted the praxian's head up gently.

"That's a good mech." He said, giving the mech's face a close look. The praxian stared past him. The features were even and pleasantly balanced, the optics a striking light blue. A good looking mech, if not outstanding. Good, Jazz thought.

"Ya know what function you were assigned ta, pretty?" Jazz asked, tilting the praxian's head from side to side.

"To please you master." The mech said in a near monotone. He was so obviously trying to hide just how frightened he was, Jazz thought in amusement. He swiped a finger over the mechs bottom lip, ignoring the aborted flinch.

"I'm guessin that applies ta anyone that comes in here?" Jazz laughed. "Close. You're a breeder. Your function is to kindle strong healthy sparklins. Preferably ones that have yer sparkgifts." The praxians wings jerked and his frame tensed.

"Preprogrammed mechs do not have sparkgifts." He said, monotone breaking. His optics finally met Jazz's visor. "Preprogrammed do not create. Only sparked mechs have that capability."

"A spark is a spark, mech. Meister says we breed you, we breed you." Jazz said. "Don't worry though. We're gonna be real careful with you pretty." His hand shifted from the praxian's chin to cupping the side of his face. The praxian trembled and his optics jerkily looked away without his face moving.

"Hey, sweetspark" Jazz cooed. "Look at me." Pale blue optics hesitantly met his gaze. Jazz smiled gently, his other hand rising to gently cradle the other side of the mechs helm.

"I's here to take care of ya." He cooed. "Let ya know the rules, what to expect now, pretty." His thumbs stroked the sides of the praxians helm. The mechs vents stuttered, and his sensor wings trembled as he tried to draw back. Jazz tightened his grasp, letting his claws catch hold. The praxian stilled.

He smirked at the sight of a pretty mech kneeling at his feet, trembling in his grasp, pale blue optics pleading. Lovely sensor wings quivered as he took a long look.

"Yer gonna be real popular, pretty." He said. "Gonna have mechs fightin over ya real fast"


	6. Decepticon Victory

Soundwave carefully considered the autobot through the energy bars. Jazz stared back up at him, kneeling on the cell floor. Behind him, Prowl was curled into himself against the back wall, optics dark.

"Soundwave: Would know why." He finally intoned. Jazz smiled crookedly up.

"Ya take care of whats yours." He rasped from a damaged vocalizer. "Yer littles, yer cassettes. You have more than any mech else. More survived than any mech elses." Soundwave tilted his head. "Ya…" Jazz's vocalizer hiccupped. "Ya wan't damage Prowl if he's useful. You'll take care of him. I's gk-good in the berth." Jazz lowered his gaze. "Yer not… No bodies seen ya goin for rrough stuff." He held himself very still.

"Jazz: does not hope for rescue." Soundwave asked. "Jazz: has lost hope." Jazz's body shook in something like laughter.

"O..Op… Prime is dead" He finally got out. "Shockwave…Shockwave c-couldn't have sent sso many if Elita… Elita is dead orr captured." He continued. "Ultra Magnus is the only one that might be left." He finished as he looked up, visor meeting visor. "Therre won't be a rescue. Not ffor me or Prrowler." His gaze dropped again. "You… You're the besst option."

"Not escape" Soundwave stated. Jazz chuckled brokenly.

"Prowl…Prrowl wouldn't make it….An where could we go?" Jazz asked.

Soundwave stood for a moment longer, then nodded. He turned away and left, Jazz following him with his gaze as far as he could.

Megatron looked up from his desk as Soundwave entered the room.

"Have you decided which one you want?" He demanded with narrowed optics.

"Soundwave: Would request bonded pair: Jazz and Prowl." Soundwave said evenly. Megatron blinked.

"Those two? I though you would want something more… malleable?" He asked. Soundwave calmly waited. Megatron shrugged. "Make sure they don't cause any trouble" he ordered absently, returning to his work.


	7. Sparklings

I'm not completely happy with this one. The beginning is good, I need a stronger hook.

Optimus finally finished his speech, explaining why he had decided against a full offensive against the Decepticons despite Megatron's obvious insanity and weakness. He had decided after the destruction of the Allspark, the last key to the spark-forges, that instead they would concentrate on helping the humans become worthy successors to Cybertronians. A legacy to continue after the last cybertronian died.

Optimus asked if anyone had questions and Jazz shifted uneasily. When Optimus bent the full force of his gaze on the smaller mech, he froze.

"Jazz, do you have something to say?" Optimus asked with a frown. The other mechs at the meeting started staring. Jazz remained silent for a moment more before speaking.

"Th-that's not completely true." He began "It is possible to create n-new sparks…" Optimus frowned harder.

"I will not allow abominations such as Shockwaves work to exist." He said, voice deepening into a bass rumble. "At best, split-spark creations are never as strong as true children of Primus, and their creation is too dangerous for the sparks that create them." Ratchett nodded in agreement.

"I would never support such a thing." He agreed. "It is too dangerous and I will not play with my patients lives in such a way." Jazz looked between them.

"Not split-spark." He said. "I – I can make *#$% * His vocalizer spit out static. "nnNewsparks" He finally got out. "ddon't need Rrr-Ratchet to make." Jazz coughed. "Not stspossed to tell. Secret. PriesTSsss."

Optimus frowned and Ratchet got up and went to Jazz's side.

"Compliance coding?" Ratchet asked gently. Jazz nodded. "Are you sure? Maybe you should go to the Medbay." Jazz shook his head violently. Ratchet frowned.

"What do priests have to do with it?" Optimus asked. Jazz shook his head again.

"Need a j*$#* Joor." He gasped out. "Didn't expect to talk about it." Ratchet frowned harder.

"Compliance coding is irreversible." He said. "If that is what this is, you would need a code-healer to have any chance of…."

"Need a few joor" Jazz interrupted. "Explain then. Really." He seemed distracted, not bothering to look at Ratchet or anyone else. Around him, Optimus's most trusted officers dissolved into arguments and frenzied speculation. As voices grew louder, Optimus finally took charge.

"Quiet." He ordered, his voice cutting through the babble. "While we are waiting for Jazz to continue, does anyone else have something to contribute?" Prowl stood up as the noise died down.

"Whether we face extinction or not, I question why we do not attack the Decepticons." He started. "For the human's sake if nothing else." The meeting continued.


End file.
